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“Make sure to get in all the nooks and crannies,” a wicked sweeping smile passes over his face and I do just that. Dropping his forehead to mine, not even Tweed can keep up the façade this isn’t affecting him. He’s rock hard against my pussy, although I avoid eye contact with the steely monster in question. I can only imagine what cement-like cum might shoot out the end, blinding me instantly.
Bubbles tumble between us as he continues to pump more body wash into his hands and rub it over his chest – being careful not to lather up mine because that would be crossing the line. A groan leaks from his lips as I grind over him, making sure we’re both clean enough to eat our dinners off of when his hands dive into my hair. Holy sweet mamba.
“Fuck yeah, just like that,” I groan, grinding my hips harder. “Scrub a dub rub, getting squeaky clean in the tub.” A dark chuckle is drawn from Tweed, a supportive thrust of his shaft aiding my clean clit cause.
His fingers massage my scalp, using the soap to wash every wisp of crusted blood from my blonde locks. I don’t even have the heart to tell him about shampoo and conditioning etiquette. The pressure on my clit is glorious, the fabric creating a whole new dimension of oh-my-yes. Using his grip on my scalp, Tweed tilts my head at the right angle for his lips to hover over my pulse. My body stiffens, preparing to take this to the next level when a cough divides our lust-filled haze, swiftly snapping both of our heads to Cash.
“We ready to go?” The mirror-image to the man I’m using as a soapy sponge is standing in the doorway, my book in his hand. A pair of boots treads inside, uncaring of the blood still covering the bathroom floor. Black cargo trousers hang low on his hips, somehow appearing sexier than the skin-tight jeans of previous. The purple-striped tank top is back however, and I’m extremely thankful for that. Clinging to every ridge of his torso, it only takes one more roll of my clit over Tweed’s solid shaft to spiral me over the edge. Tremors rack my body, only the grip of Tweed’s hands encasing my head and nape keeping me upright. I rest against him like a pole, moaning through the pulsating waves rolling through my pussy. Fuck, I needed that.
“Who knew getting clean could be so fun?” I sigh, releasing my leg from Tweed’s shoulder. I knew keeping up with my yoga routine would come in handy. Pushing Tweed a reluctant step back, I go to leave the tub before eyeing the blood on the floor. Mmmm, seems counterproductive when I’ve used Tweed like a whorey wash cloth. Bracing one foot on the tub, I give Cash a sharp nod and fling myself into the air.
“Catch meee!” Strong banded arms wrap around my slippery body and with a whistle, I watch Stan hop from the tub’s edge to the back of the toilet, over the sink and sail into the safety of my hair. Even sopping wet, I bet its nicer for him than remaining in Tweed’s company. Dude can rub me into a climax whenever he wants, doesn’t mean I need to like him.
Carrying me into the bedroom, Cash places me down gently before wrapping a towel around my middle. A matching outfit to his own, complete with boots has been laid across the bed for Tweed, beside what I suppose I’m expected to wear. A powdered blue dress in satin. Fuck no.
I don’t care if the central panel is white, outlined with boning that would mold to my body. I don’t care about the black sash that circles the middle, the uneven bump underneath hinting at a large bow, or how it ties into the ruffling beneath the skirt.Nor, do I give a fuck about white stockings, elbow gloves, oversized hair bow or sky-blue high heels.
“Dress quickly, the portal is nearly ready,” Cash tells me, looking over his shoulder. I turn to see the wall distorting behind a sickly, yellow sheet of wallpaper. It rolls in waves, warping into what looks like the hollows outline of a face. When I take a step back, Cash is no longer there and I drop onto the edge of the mattress. My hand comes to rest on the satin, although my attention is set on the tunneled eyes boring out of the paper, a gaping mouth stretching and reaching for me. I somehow don’t think I’m imagining this, since it’s not my fantastical niche, and I’m not about to die in a fucking towel. Snatching up the clothes, I duck to the other side of the room to dress at a safe distance.
Once fully covered, I dart from the room, in search of the twins before that damn thingconsumesme. The tearing of wallpaper follows me through the hallway, echoed by a roar that rocks the cabin on its wooden plinths. Gripping the railing on the staircase, Cash is jogging up to stop me from escaping completely. His eyes drag over my body with keen interest but there’s no time for that apparently.
Crowding me back up the steps, I throw punches to his shoulders, not so sure about this anymore. I know what happened to me as a child was real and fuck what anyone else has to say about it. I also know I need to get back there and see if what I believe has any truth to it. On that thought, I snatch the dictionary from Cash’s grip and hold it close. You’re going nowhere. But surely there’s an easier way than this. A rabbit hole surrounded by daisies, perhaps?
Wrapping an arm around my body, Cash carries me back along the hall and I note the bathroom door is wide now, the tub completely empty. Bloodied footsteps trail the cream carpet towards the bedroom door and as Cash kicks it in, there’s Tweed.
“Oh wow,” Cash halts, releasing a wolf whistle. “Suits you brother.” I twist out of Cash’s grip, taking in the sight before me in full detail. Never mind the face stretching from the wall, which is obviously a clown because that’s not terrifying.
Standing with his legs at crooked angles, his toes crammed into the heels, Tweed’s muscled chest heaves from inside the blue dress. I was right – the boning does do wonders for the figure, giving Tweed an hour-glass appearance models would kill for. Despite the scowl etched into his face, he’s gone the whole mile, snow-white gloves over his manly hands, oversize bow in his hair and all. This eyes, though, are burning with fury.
“What? Cash told me to get dressed; he didn’t specify into which outfit,” I suppress a snigger.
“No one breathes a word of this,” he growls and snatches my wrist. Tugging me into the heat of his body, his teeth snap out and grazes my cheek. “You’ll regret ever crossing me once we get back.”
“I don’t think so somehow,” I burst out laughing, right in his face. Nothing he does to me from here on out will make this any less the best moment of my life. The clown roars again, groaning until it halts mid-stretch, the protruding sharp teeth just inches from my face. White paint surrounds the bulging eyes, his lips enhanced with a vibrant red smile that stretches back to the ripped wallpaper. In his opened mouth, a black and white spiral begins to spin, making me dizzy when I stare into the never-ending curve for too long. Without warning, Tweed grabs me through the mesh of his vest and throws me inside.
I release a scream, tumbling down the clown’s pie-hole. Like a curling slide, my body is tossed around until I’m vertical and falling at a snail’s pace. Air plumps up my cargo trousers, giving me a natural parachute as objects float on by. Animal skeletons, jars containing who-knows-what but any that contain eyeballs all swivel to glare at me. A few teddies with glowing red eyes glide past, their mechanical voices singing my trigger word on repeat.
Alice. Alice. Alice.
Swimming my arms out to turn my back on them, not having the breath to meditate myself back to composure, I find a bookcase. It seems to be descending in time with me, giving a little wiggle in a ‘bitch, fondle my shelves’ kind of way. Running my finger over the mantel, the bookcase shudders and I smirk. We’re all objects of pleasure; doesn’t matter if your made of wood, plastic or connective tissue. We’re all just atoms, and atoms need a good rodgering sometimes.
Plucking out the spine of a book that catches my eye, I glance over the fuchsia pink cover, noting a badass chick holding a bat on a quad bike. Crushin’ Candy?Hmm, seems like my kind of read, I muse with an upturned smile and tuck it into the overly large cargo pants pocket that isn’t concealing my dictionary.
As soon as I accept the book, the bookshelf shoots upwards and I don’t have time to wave goodbye as the tunnel opens up and I’m deposited from the sky. My fall speeds up and I slam into a pile of bones. Human, I’d presume from the sea of skulls cracking beneath my crash landing.Malice, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.Two figures loom over me, blocking out the upturned crescent moon hanging beyond them like a lazy smile.
Hoisting me to my feet, any familiarity is lost in their shadowed faces. If anything, my presence would appear inconvenient to them, even though it’s their fault I’m here. I blink rapidly and suddenly; I’m realizing tonight hasn’t just been a fun escapade.
Unfortunately, Tweed has changed into a long trench coat made of…well, tweed. The collar is popped around his neck, his blonde hair ruffling in a balmy wind. Must be summer here, and definitely too warm for his heavy jacket or the sweater clinging to Cash. Holding out a hand for me to take, I stroke a hand over his arm and roll my eyes at the luxurious softened wool. Fucking ‘cash’mere, as if their chosen names could be any more cliché.
“You know what,” I tilt my head. “I’m starting to think you guys aren’t strippers after all.”
“Think again,” Cash roughly turns me by the shoulders to see the flashing lights of a club, a heart around the entrance at odds with the spade-shaped windows. Pinned a-top the wavey roof, a neon flashing sign labels this establishment as Dirty Dee’s. Well, shit.
5
The Day Before Malice’s Return
The rattle of a sigh echoes in my chest. Limbs are piled on my body, constricting me to the heart-shaped bed and every passing second, my patience wears thinner. The cogs in my mind keep ticking, clicking, clacking against my skull. Stop wasting time little Tweedle, I tell myself in mockery. There’s work to do.
